


sir

by Anonymous



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M, Praise Kink, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21622750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: the first time it’s entirely accidental, a hiccuping gasp that slips out of you as chromedome is spiking you from behind.“s-sir! please!”
Relationships: Chromedome/Rewind
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35
Collections: Anonymous





	sir

**Author's Note:**

> just something i got bored and wrote on tumblr. rewind is a bottom don't @ me. 
> 
> entirely unbetaed, sorry for any mistakes.

the first time it’s entirely accidental, a hiccuping gasp that slips out of you as chromedome is spiking you from behind.

“s-sir! please!”

he stills instantly and you’re forced to actually process when your voxbox spit out. there’s a brief moment where you’re afraid you fragged up and he’s really not into that before his frame is curled over yours and his lips and teeth are teasing at your neck cables.

“holy scrap rewind say that again.” his hips stutter into you, little short thrusts that aren’t nearly enough.

“please sir!” your fingers dig into the metal of the desk you’re currently bent over and you arch into him. “please frag me harder!”

“well since you asked so nicely…” he slowly pulls almost all the way out and you have to keep yourself still with measured effort.

he pauses like that for only a moment, leaving your valve achingly empty, before he slams back into you, the tip of his spike finding your ceiling node on the first thrust.

you have to keep yourself from screaming out loud, it’s just so good. he sets a brutal pace that jolts your small frame with every thrust and you sob with pleasure. this is exactly what you wanted, he isn’t holding back and you can feel dents forming all over your hip plating but you just can’t bring yourself to care.

over the sounds of clanging metal, overclocked fans, and your shameless moaning, you can barely hear what chromedome is saying but bits filter through. it’s an endless litany of “good, yes, just like that, good boy” and “you’re doing so well for me rewind, so perfect, love you so much” and “scrap, yes just like that, you feel so good” interspersed with gasping and moaning of his own and you enjoy the praise almost as much as you’re enjoying his spike.

you feel your overload drawing closer and you try to stutter out a warning. you don’t know how coherent you are but somehow, even with the interspersed “thank you sir!"s and moaning he must have gotten the message. he wraps one arm under you and the other grabs onto the top of your back plating and he hauls you back onto his spike. you almost miss it over your static laced moaning but you manage to make out what he’s saying.

"good boy, you’re doing so fragging good, overload for me, i want to feel you overload on my spike, primus you’re so good-” his voice is cut through with it’s share of static, he must be close as well.

your overload crashes over you and you know you must be loud but you can’t stop yourself, not with the way he’s fragging you through your overload, his pace barely slowed. it’s just on the right side of too much and it’s absolutely perfect.

you can feel him slowing down and he’s about to pull out when you realize he hasn’t overloaded yet. “c'mon domey, overload in me, you can keep going,”

he curls his frame around yours so he can whisper right into your audial, his spike flirting with the entrance to your valve. “what’s the magic word?”

“please, please sir overload in me, fill me up-p, ah!” you cut yourself off with a shout, thoroughly distracted by the feeling of hot transfluid filling you up and dripping from your valve onto the desk below you.

both of you are panting hard and you can’t help but whine a little at the feeling of chromedome pulling out, as well as at the accompanying rush of transfluid that messes up what little of your thigh plating that isn’t already covered in dents and scrapes.

“…so you like being called sir huh?”

he curls into you and presses his face into your back plating, slightly muffling his voice. “…maybe so.”

**Author's Note:**

> i like to imagine that the desk in question is prowl's. 
> 
> comments, constructive criticism, feedback, and hastily transcribed audio logs of events that may have occurred in times long since gone but still haunt you to this day are all welcome!


End file.
